


Crash Into Me

by Demerite



Series: Trektober 2019 [7]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Camping, Episode: s02e07 Light and Shadows, Fade to Black, Kissing, M/M, Minor Injuries, Sharing a Bed, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-26 18:04:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20934458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demerite/pseuds/Demerite
Summary: "And what happened to the shuttle, Captain Pike?" Chris mutters bitterly to himself, "Oh you know, the damn ocean stole it!"-Instead of being rescued from the Time Rift, Chris and Ash's shuttle crashes on an unknown planet, and they have to survive until they can work out where - or when - they are.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Technically this is for the Day 8 Prompt: Cuddling, because I COULD NOT get anything to work for any of the Day 7 prompts. So this is multi-chaptered, and chapter two will be up tomorrow.

They're kind of fucked. 

Actually, there's no kind of about it. They are_ completely_ fucked. 

Tyler's unconscious and, at last check, still bleeding in the back of the shuttle. The shuttle which itself is in real danger of shaking apart. Dozens of warnings flash their way across the screens, and he does his best to take note of what they're telling him and file the information away in his brain while also concentrating on maintaining control as they circle towards the planet's surface. They're not in freefall, but it's a near enough thing, and they _are _in real danger of spinning out and hitting something like the side of that mountain, no that cliff, if he's not careful about it. The landing, he already knows, is going to be hard, if they manage to land at all. 

"Shit." Chris mutters through gritted teeth, hands flying over the control, using every bit of his strength and knowledge and experience to fight both the shuttle and gravity. They're coming in too hard and too fast towards ground he can barely see through thick mist, battered on all sides by wind, and their lack of proper stabilisers isn't helping. Just because these shuttles _can _be flown in consideration like these doesn't mean they _should _be. ****

Another warning starts blaring, flashing a bright red proximity alert over the main viewscreen, which Chris _knows _because the thing they're in close proximity to is the _ground, _and they're where they're supposed to be going, although preferably not at this speed. The landing is going to hurt. 

The landing, as much as it can be called that, _does _hurt. The shuttle hits what is presumably the ground with enough force to throw Chris from his seat and onto the decking. His head connects with the edge of a console on the way down, but not hard enough for him to lose consciousness; his vision goes fuzzy for a few moments and he can see a few bright spots of light that probably aren't actually there, but he drags himself upright as soon as he can see straight, clinging to the back of his chair for support. He holds there for a full minute, waiting to see if the shuttle is going to shift or slide. It doesn't, so he slides back into the seat, intent on checking through what systems he can. 

There's not a lot still working. Almost everything, including the external visual feed, has been destroyed in the crash. He's still got some non-visual sensors though, which are reporting breathable atmosphere, low but not intolerable temperatures, and no life forms within range. Survivable, at least in the short time, if they have to leave the shuttle. Chris runs a quick diagnostic and is relieved to note that despite their rough landing, the fuel lines are still intact. 

Once he's reassured that they're not going to blow up in the next few minutes, he goes to check on Tyler. 

As it turns out, Tyler looks like hell, but he's breathing, so looks are decidedly secondary. He's also still bleeding, albeit sluggishly, from where the probe's claws had grabbed him, punching through the tactical vest and into skin and muscle. Chris grabs for the medpack, dumping half of its contents out on the decking before he finds the scanner. He has to exert conscious effort to keep his hands steady as he holds the device over Tyler's unconscious form, waiting for what feels like hours to get a reading. 

With a beep, the information flashes up on the screen. Chris reads through it, and lets out a small sigh. Somehow, the probes claws have managed to miss anything vitally important to survival. One of the three deep wounds penetrates concerningly close to a lung, another too near a major artery for comfort, but nothing there is going to kill him Tyler, it seems, has managed to get very, very lucky. 

Chris' hands are steady now, as he unzips the tac vest and jacket underneath, pushing the fabric away to assess the wounds visually. He doesn't have time to use the regen, not until he has a better handle on their broader situation, but he can at least slap a field dressing over the wounds to help get the bleeding under control. 

As he's pressing the dressing into place, thankful that Tyler is still unconscious for this, the shuttle rocks violently, as if something has physically knocked into it. Chris swear and grabs for a handhold, managing to stay upright only through luck and quick thinking. He heads for the front of the shuttle the moment the movement stops, but external scanners are giving him basically nothing, other than a continued lack of life forms. Small mercies, but not an answer as to the sudden movement. 

His only real option is to open a hatch and take a look. 

Chris ignores the main hatch at the back of the craft, and goes for the emergency one in the ceiling instead. The releases work on the first try, and he grabs the edge of the opening, pulling himself up, muscles aching in protest, and clambers out onto the roof of the shuttle. 

"Fuck." He can't help but snarl the world. The shuttle is being buffeted by small waves. They've landed in an ocean, of all places, and Chris is pretty certain that the tide is coming in. "Fuck." He says again, a little louder, when he nearly loses his balance. 

"Language, sir." Says a voice from below him, and Chris nearly had a fucking heart attack, but when he looks down, Tyler is standing, looking a little shaky still, and looking up through the hatch at him. 

Chris drops back through the hatch to stand next to Tyler. "You alright?" He asks, casting a meaningful glance towards his shoulder, and Tyler just shrugs, pokes cautiously at the dressing, winces, and zips both jacket and tac vest closed. 

"I've had worse, sir." He says, "Where are we?" 

"Dirstside. Not sure of where." Chris sighs, heading towards the gear cases at the back of the shuttle, "And we're in the ocean." 

"Let me guess, tide's coming in?" Tyler says with a resigned tone, joining Chris in searching through the gear. 

"Think so." Chris doesn't actually know _that _much about the ocean, but he knows he has to assume the worst until proven otherwise, or there's a good chance they'll end up floating away. He shoves ration packs, a medical kit, and two lightweight sleeping mats into one of the empty packs, and digs deeper into the crate in search of the instafire cubes that he knows are in there somewhere. He wants out of the shuttle sooner, rather than later, while there's still daylight and not too much distance from shore. 

Gear packed, and both of them armed, Chris triggers the release for the main hatch. They're definitely floating now, the shuttle rocking with each movement either inside or out. The hatch opens to reveal they've drifted further from land, but when Chris looks down, he can see the seafloor not far below them. 

With an internal sigh, Chris steps down from the shuttle and definitely _doesn't _let out a yelp when the thigh-deep, _freezing _water makes its way through the fabric of his uniform almost immediately. Ash raises an eyebrow at him in a silent but eloquent expression, and Chris glares back at him and reaches for his pack, swinging it onto his back and waiting for Ash to follow him down into the icy waves.

Ash stumbles as he lands, and Chris reaches for him on instinct, catching his good arm and holding him steady. 

“Thanks.” Ash mutters, reaching back once Chris has let go of his arm to grab the second, lighter pack. He swings it up easily onto his good shoulder, balancing despite the movement of the water around his legs and his injury. Apparently he just needs to get his bearings, because then he’s off, wading through the icy waves as if he’s hardly bothered by the cold. Chris bids a silent farewell to their shuttle, and follows him towards land. 

~*~

"And what happened to the shuttle, Captain Pike?" Chris mutters bitterly to himself, "Oh you know, the damn ocean stole it!" He stamps down harder than is probably necessary on another branch to break is, and he knows he's dangerously close to losing his temper, but there's no-one around to see, and it's oddly cathartic. He sighs, drags a hand over his face, then bends to pick up the broken branch to add it to the pile. He doesn't have _time _to lose his temper like this; he needs to focus. They're running out of daylight, and there's no way to tell how long the night could be on this planet. They need a fire, and soon.

When he stalks back to their makeshift camp, Tyler is battling one-handed with the shelter. Chris dumps the pile of firewood on the ground and goes to help him. 

"You should have waited." He admonishes, and Tyler glares at him. 

"I'm fine, sir." He says firmly, still struggling with pull his side of the tarp into place. 

Chris suppresses the urge to roll his eyes and pulls his side of the tarp down, securing it in place while Tyler gets the other side in position. The shelter is very small, they're going to have to squeeze, but it's better than not having any shelter at all.

"I've got this." Tyler says firmly, already kneeling down to dig through on of the packs. There are sleeping mats in one of them, which will at least provide some insulation from the cold. There's no telling how far the temperature will drop tonight.

Chris goes back to making the fire, setting tinder and kindling up carefully. They don't have a lot, most of the vegetation this close to the beach is green and scrubby still, no good for burning, so they’ll have to make what they can find last. He's fiercely grateful for the Starfleet survival course now, those four miserable weeks spent in various kinds of wilderness with little to no resources equipping him to deal with this situation with comparative ease. Of course, there's a difference between dealing with something and _liking _it, he thinks, a little petulantly and entirely unfairly, while he organises their remaining supplies. They don't have a lot, but assuming rescue arrives for them in the next week to ten days, they're not going to starve. After that though, they're going to have to hope there's _something _\- flora or fauna - that they can eat here.

He's got the tinder sparking and smoking by the time Tyler's finished with the shelter and their packs and has pulled out their lone tricorder. Chris glances up at him, tilts his head in lieu of asking what he's doing.

"Threat scan." Tyler supplies, "Seems reasonable, considering we don't even know _where _we are."

"Or when." Chris adds darkly, in a half-mumble. He knows he should be trying to keep their morale up, should be staying positive, but he can’t handle that responsibility right now, and it’s not as if Tyler cares about how he acts anyway. 

~*~ 

Eventually, they settle down to sleep for the night. The threat scan revealed nothing, so Chris makes the call that they don't need to set a watch, and that sleeping is a greater priority if they're going to start walking for higher ground tomorrow. They squeeze into the shelter together. It's not designed for two fully grown men, but the alternative is sleeping out in the elements, and the temperature is already starting to drop.

"I hope you don't snore." He says, trying to lighten the tense mood. Tyler lets out a low huff that _might _be a laugh, but he's already lying down, facing away from Chris, his good shoulder pressed into the sleeping mat.

Chris sighs and lies down too, turning his back to Tyler and staring at the wall of the shelter, waiting for sleep to come. _There's nothing you can do until morning, _he tells himself firmly, but his brain refuses to quiet, racing round and round with thoughts and ideas and plans and possibilities. He _has _to assume that _Discovery _is coming for them, that they haven't fallen so far through time that they're irretrievable. For all he knows, they haven't fallen through time at all, they can hardly trust the reading of one post-shuttle-crash tricorder on that front, not after falling through a literal time rift.

He's just drifting towards sleep, exhaustion and the adrenaline crash doing more to settle him than thinking had, when Tyler, who is already asleep if his slow, steady, deep breathing is any indication, rolls over and smacks his injured shoulder straight into Chris' back.

Tyler jolts awake with a muffled curse.

"Fuck." He hisses, hunching inwards, the tensing of his muscles in a natural flight-or-fight response only serving to hurt his shoulder more. His swearing dissolves into muttering furiously in Klingon, but he doesn't try to touch the injury, so there's that.

Chris sits up because there's no point is lying still when he's obviously awake anyway.

"Sorry, Sir." Tyler switches back to Standard, "I didn't mean to wake you."

'You didn't." Chris waves him away, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Tyler's voice is a little unsteady, "Hurts like a motherfucker, but I've had worse." That remark is accompanied by a bitter little half-smile, just a vicious quirk of the lips. He lies back down, settling himself in the same position, bad side up, back turned to Chris, and Chris just shrugs and settles down back to back with him again. It's not like he hasn't shared a bed with someone injured before, his brain oh so helpfully reminds him. Una had dislocated her shoulder and torn the rotator cuff on an away mission, and he'd ended up in bed with her for almost a month, because she slept still when there was someone else in the bed (and okay, the fact that he'd been holding her still kinda helped, she admitted later), and that's what weirdly co-dependant best friends do, but this feels...different, somehow.

Right as he's drifting off again, the same thing happens. Tyler rolls over, smacks into Chris' back, and jolts awake with another pained curse. He spends another few minutes cursing and apologising and sounding like he's controlling the pain through sheer stubbornness - which Chris wouldn't be surprised about honestly - until Chris gets an idea. A terrible, horrible, stupid idea, but an idea that might actually work nonetheless.

"Come here." He says, and Tyler gives him a deeply suspicious look in the low light.

Chris rolls his eyes, hopes Tyler doesn't notice, and _knows _that he does. 

"Come _here_." He repeats, exasperated, "If we squash together, you won't have anywhere to roll." It's a reasonable idea, one Chris has put into practice before, but, his mind points out, the last time he'd...cuddled...someone to keep them off an injury, it had been Una, and Chris actually likes and trusts Una. He's not sure he trusts Tyler, not yet. "That way we can both get some damn sleep."

Tyler gives him a suspicious look for a moment, then shuffles across the tiny shelter until he's pressed against Chris, facing away from him. Chris very carefully don’t think about anything at all as he slings an arm over Tyler’s waist, pulling him in tight.

He can feel the tension radiating from every muscle of Tyler’s body, how he’s holding himself stiff and still, which can’t be helping his shoulder, and he does his best not to let that tension get to him, concentrates on breathing slow and deep and even and not thinking about how he’s essentially cuddling a _very _attractive person.

_A member of your crew. _His mind points out. _Well, not technically. _

Chris doesn’t sleep well that night, his mind filled with too many images that…are not something he wants to think about in the light of day, lest he turn bright red and have to deal with some potentially _very _awkward questions from Tyler. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Chapter 2, a day late and a dollar short, because engaging with my family is bloody exhausting. Enjoy!

The morning isn't much better. Chris wakes up in much the same position he fell asleep in - wrapped around Tyler, having inappropriate thoughts.

_Just great_. He thinks, and tries to extricate himself for the actually incredibly comfortable - as far as can be considered - sleeping arrangement. Unfortunately for his attempts, Tyler is still asleep, and is clinging to the arm Chris has wrapped around him with surprising strength. Chris resigns himself to just having to lie there until Tyler wakes up, or can be woken.

To that end, he shakes Tyler as gently as he can. It's not fair to startle a man out of sleep if you don't have to.

Tyler makes a mumbling sound that Chris _absolutely does not _think is kind of adorable, and pulls Chris' arm tighter around himself, wriggling back against Chris' chest until it would be physically impossible for them to be any closer to each other and still have clothing involved. And wow, he needs to stop with that line of thought _right the fuck now _if he wants to get through the morning without embarrassing himself in front of someone who doesn't even _like _him.

Chis tries again to shake Tyler into wakefulness, and this time the disjointed mumbling is accompanied by more movement, and then Tyler's whole body goes tense. It sounds - and feels - like he might be holding his breath while he assesses the situation.

Chris knows that there's a chance that Tyler doesn't remember the events of last night. Or even yesterday. He's half-awake and immobilised and in pain and that's got to be disorienting enough for someone who _hasn't _been a prisoner-or-war. 

He should say something to diffuse the tension, to set him at ease, to remind him, but in the moment, he can't think of anything to say that isn't stupid or awkward or just plain ridiculous.

"Good morning." He finally settles on, and that seems to be enough, because Tyler lets go of his arm and twists around so he can look over his own shoulder at Chris without rolling onto his injured side.

Their close proximity means that this manoeuvre puts them almost nose to nose, and this time Chris is the one who freezes. They've never been _this _close before, not so close that....that Chris could _kiss _him.

He wants to. He really, _really _wants to, but there are so many reasons he shouldn't.

<strike> _He's under your command._ </strike> _ He's not really. _

<strike> _You can't trust him._ </strike> _ He's proved himself enough. _

<strike> _You don't want to kiss him._ </strike> _ You do. _

Tyler's gaze drops to Chris' mouth, a flicker of motion until he seems to get stuck, and can't stop staring for a full breath, after which he looks back up again, dark eyes meeting Chris'. Chris _knows _that what he's seeing in Tyler's eyes is want. There's no way to mistake it.

_Ash Tyler wants to kiss him. _

The air between them, such a tiny space, feels charged, like standing on a mountaintop and staring down a storm.

Ash leans in, a subtle sway of movement, and Chris is there to meet him -

Only to spring back from him a mere centimetre before their lips touch, already scrambling for the entrance of the shelter and out into daylight, to confront the source of the crashing and aggressive swearing that had pulled him away from being able to kiss Ash Tyler for the first time.

Chris stumbles out, disoriented and no less confused when the source of the swearing and crashing turns out to be none other than Commander Paul Stamets, engaged in a pitched battle with a particularly thorny looking bush.

"Commander Stamets?" Chris asks, because the scene in front of him is refusing to make sense, and he's sure that's not just a result of being half-asleep and still stuck on thaughts of kissing Ash Tyler.

"Captain!" Stamets manages to extricate himself from the bush, and brushes a few stray leaves from his uniform jacket.

"Commander Stamets, how did you get here?" Chris is still trying to understand the whole situation. He hears Ash come up behind him, but doesn't turn to look.

“Uh, Science, math, look I’ve only got about 20 seconds to - wait what happened to the shuttle?” Stamets cuts himself off mid-ramble, looking around in confusion, clearly trying to locate the aforementioned shuttle.   
  
“It’s in the ocean.” Ash and Chris both say at the same time, in tones of resigned acceptance.

“Huh okay, that complicates things slightly, but uh, never mind that." Stamets mutters. He reaches out both hands to them, " Quick, grab my hands, we’re gonna use the transporter and the network to drag you back.”

“Is that...safe?” Chris asks dubiously, already reaching for the offered hand anyway.

“Five seconds!” Stamets warns, and Chris doesn't miss the fact that he's avoided answering the question.

"Goddamnit." Chris mutters, and grabs his hand, glancing to his left to confirm that Ash has done the same.

~*~

They hit the transporter pad in a tangle of limbs and pain. Chris somehow ends up on the bottom of the pile, with someone's knee digging into his ribs. Not the most dignified position for the captain of a Starfleet vessel to return to said vessel in, but the fact that he's returning at all is miraculous enough that he's not going to complain about ending up on the floor instead of on two feet.

Ensign Tilly, Commander Saru, and a collection of science and medical staff descend on them in a swarm, demanding explanations and clarifications and status updates in a mess of sound and movement.

Chris untangles himself from Tyler and Stamets, both of whom stand and dust themselves off, moving to stand as far away from each other as possible without making it blatantly obvious. Saru is already there, asking questions and giving him information, and Chris barely has time to steal a glance back towards Tyler, who is surrounded by medical staff, before they're headed to the Bridge. 

~*~

“You got very lucky, Sir.” Dr Pollard says, running the regen over the bruises on Chris’ forehead sometime later, after she'd burst onto the bridge and all but dragged him to sickbay for a checkup, “Considering the temperatures your tricorder recorded overnight on the planet’s surface, I’m surprised I don’t have to check you for frostbite.”

"We lit a fire." Chris answers. He's not going to bring up the cuddling if he can avoid it; some part of him wants to keep those memories to himself, where he can revisit them. 

Dr. Pollard gives him a look, that patented 'I don't believe your shit but you outrank me so I'm going to keep my mouth shut' glare that seems to be common to all Starfleet medical staff, but the regen turns off, and she nods. "You're done, Captain." She announces, "Consider yourself lucky it wasn't more serious." 

"Thank you, doctor." Chris slides down off the biobed, somehow managing to keep a straight face. 

She gives him a brief, narrow-eyed look, before turning on her heel and going to attend to other matters in the busy sickbay. 

Chris glances over to where Tyler's shoulder is still being seen to by another member of medical staff. He knows he could probably leave now, his head is fine, bruises healed, but he wants to talk to Tyler about what happened in the shelter, about the almost-kiss, before it's too late. Before he misses his chance. 

~*~

The walk from sickbay is quiet. 

Chris doesn't know what to say, and Tyler either doesn't want to, or doesn't know what to say either. But it's not the tense silence it would have been before. It's almost-but-not-quite comfortable. 

They stop outside Tyler’s quarters. Chris knows that this is where he should leave. He’s more than fulfilled his duty as concerned captain. His duty ended when he saw Tyler delivered to sickbay. He’s still here.

Tyler reaches for the access panel, pauses, and turns to look at Chris. There’s a question in his eyes.

“I think we need to have a conversation.” Chris says, because they should probably talk about whatever this is, and reaches for his hand, trying to broadcast everything he’s feeling with his eyes. Tyler lets him take it, looks down at their joined hands for a moment, and then back up at Chris with a hungry look in his eyes.

"Yeah." Tyler agrees, "We probably should." And then he leans in and kisses Chris.

It's a little uncoordinated, the element of surprise meaning Chris isn't entirely prepared. He swiftly forgets that however, because there are more important things to think about; like Ash Tyler, kissing him, right in the middle of the corridor.

It’s…nice. Okay, it’s a lot more than nice, but that’s the first word that comes to Chris’ mind. He’d sort of assumed that if they ever made it to anything like this point, it would be all animosity and trying to outdo each other, with one or both of them having things to prove. This…this isn’t that. This is want and need and actual honest-to-god attraction, or if it isn’t, Ash is a better actor than Chris has given him credit for this whole time.

Ash steps back, and for a moment Chris thinks that maybe he’s changed his mind, but he’s still holding Chris’ hand, and he uses his free hand to key the access code, and open the door to his quarters.

The look he gives Chris is a question that Chris doesn’t know if he can answer with words, so instead he just follows him inside, and once the door is closed, pulls him back to him and kisses him again and again until they're both breathless, and then some more. 

They stumble backwards until Ash bumps into the edge of the bed. Chris thinks maybe now they'll pause and maybe talk about this, but instead, Ash's hands go for the zipper of Chris' jacket, fumbling a little in the attempt to tug it down. Chris catches Ash's hands in his and holds them still. 

"Should we maybe talk about this?" He suggests. 

Ash gives him a _look. _It's a look that somehow manages to convey his desire to know if Chris is fucking kidding him right now, and his desire to get him naked. Chris is actually pretty impressed by that look. "Do you _not _want to do this?" Ash asks him. 

"Oh no, I definitely do." Chris reassures him, "I just thought we might need to talk about it first." 

"What's there to talk about?" Ash asks, and this time Chris doesn't stop him when he tugs the zipper down, or when he pushes the jacket back off his shoulders, "You want this, I want this, we can work anything else out later, right?" 

"Right." Chris agrees, because really, they're both adults, they're both more than capable of saying stop if they want to - he hopes - so there's no reason why they shouldn't do this. So he kisses Ash again and unzips his jacket and lets Ash pull him down towards the bed to sprawl over him in a tangle of limbs and warmth and want. 

~*~

“So what now?” Chris asks.   
  
“I don’t know.” Ash admits, looking up from where his head is resting on Chris’ bare chest.   
  
“I thought Section 31 was all plans and schemes.” Chris can’t help but tease.   
  
“This wasn’t in the plan.” Ash admits quietly. He doesn't seem upset by it. 

"Plans change." Chris offers. 

"Yeah." Ash agrees quietly, a small smile on his face, "I guess they do." 

**Author's Note:**

> Want to know more about Trektober? Click [HERE](https://aishahiwatari.tumblr.com/post/188059640163/trektober) for the info post on Aisha's tumblr, or [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Trektober2019) for the AO3 collection to read our fic. 
> 
> Come yell at me on [Tumblr](https://demerite.tumblr.com/)!


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